


The Poet - Two souls destined to meet

by AutumnFaded



Series: The Poet — Two souls destined to meet [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Drama, M/M, Romance, merman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:23:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnFaded/pseuds/AutumnFaded
Summary: The Poet tells the most beautiful love story the gods have ever seen.They never imagined that a human and a young sorcerer from the depths of the ocean would fall in love under a mysterious cherry tree that grew on the seashore.Makoto and Haruka were selected by the gods to join in each of their lives, and this was no exception. They would write their love story with a pencil, an old notebook and a blanket of stars covering them in the night sky.Living under the strict rules of the empire and an inevitable revenge blinded by hatred and sadness, Haruka must choose whether to follow his destiny dictated by the stars... or follow his heart.The ink may fade, the paper will wear out, but they will always meet. In this life......And the others.
Relationships: Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei, Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori, Kirishima Natsuya/Serizawa Nao, Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Shigino Kisumi/Shiina Asahi
Series: The Poet — Two souls destined to meet [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618807
Kudos: 7





	The Poet - Two souls destined to meet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First of all, I really want to thank for taking the time to read the first part of this story (I'm not really sure of how many parts will be, but I really hope you like them!) This is my first fantasy work —alongside Mermaid (a SouRin parallel of this story that's already published)— and it's also my first AU related to the Free! fandom, so I'll take any kind of critics or comments about this because I want to make a good job. ♥  
> I hope you like it! Thank you so much! ♥ —I apologize If there's any typo, I'm not pretty good at english yet.

His home was set apart from the rest of the kingdom, but it was close enough to walk to the market. His mother had taught him to eat in a healthy way, in addition to showing him how to choose the freshest vegetables and knowing how to distinguish between an old fish from one freshly taken out of the water (if the scales have that bright reflection, they are intact and moist, then you found a fresh fish; just make sure it doesn't smell bad). He carried all his purchases in a basket that had been his grandmother's. He didn't miss her, because every time he approached the town's bakery he could hear her voice: "Makoto, don't eat sweets or your teeth will fall out!" Who would he blame for that? Kisumi. He would be responsible if that happened. He and his delicious desserts that filled the bakery with that sweet aroma every morning.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning, Makoto, what a surprise to see you here!”

“I came to buy some fish, and took the opportunity to say hello. Are the cookies ready?”

“They shouldn't take long. Sit down, I'll bring you a cup of tea.”

“How has the business been?”

“Wonderful! Costumers hardly complain about my neighbor's trash smell.”

“Are you still fighting with Asahi? I thought you guys had came to an agreement.”

“Ha! That little tiger hasn't seen all my tricks yet. Wait for him to taste my peach and walnut cake, I'll have him at my feet! And he will have no choice but to clean the garbage left by his vegetables.”

“Hope everything goes well.”

The cookies came out of the oven a few minutes later, and while they cooled, Kisumi took the opportunity to serve Makoto more tea and presented him with a bag of muffins of the day before.

A carriage full of baskets stopped in the alley that separated the bakery from the fruit and vegetable shop owned by the "annoying" neighbor of Kisumi. He went out to meet the supplier, covering his face with a bandana and a red apron that ended up getting dirty after lowering all the baskets of the carriage. Kisumi saw him from the window, muttering a prayer to the gods for the redhead to clean up the trash.

“That was the last one! Thank you! I'll see you next week!” He said goodbye to the carriage driver, a man who looked small next to Asahi.

“He seems like a nice person”, Makoto said, approaching to Kisumi.

“Don't let his smile and kindness distract you, Makoto, he's a little imp with the sole purpose of driving me crazy.”

Asahi turned to the window. A mocking smile appeared on his flushed face and he ended up sticking his tongue out at Kisumi, then went back inside his business. Leaving the trash in the alley. Kisumi tightened his jaw and let out a scream.

“Enough! It's cake time!”

“Can I take my cookies?”

“Of course.”

He put the bag of cookies in his basket and said goodbye to his friend with a smile, moving away from the bakery and the sweet aroma it gave off. The warmth of the ovens was one of the things Makoto liked most about that place, especially in the winter. He met with Kisumi for chocolate and hot tea accompanied by the cookies that were not sold on the day, although, if they were lucky, they would eat a slice of cake or some pieces of marzipan. And while Makoto remembered the winter, the freshly made sweets and the shine on the fish scales, the sea breeze caressed his hair.

The sky was a beautiful blue color, the soft clouds looked like sheep dancing in the infinite. Jumping the rainbow of the horizon and combing their wool in the sunlight, so warm and bright. It was the heat of the sun, the cool breeze and the sing of the ocean that motivated Makoto to pursue his dream and his love of writing. He still remembers the first poem he wrote, his first novel and his first published book. His father bought him a hardcover book once a year and Makoto did not leave a blank because all the sheets –and the covers of the notebook– ended up full of ink, with millions of letters on it! All written with due respect, and with much love. The notebooks, which already have stained covers and yellowed sheets, rest in Makoto's bookcase next to all the books he has published. But there is only one type of book that manages to capture Makoto's attention almost as much as all those old notebooks: poetry books. The second thing he loved most in the world (after his family and his hardcover books) was poetry.

Makoto was a poet and traveler, a combination of gold, so he sometimes left home with a destination in mind that could well be the river at the foot of the mountain, the sunflower fields that were to the north; sometimes he went to some neighboring town for months or just went under the shade of his favorite cherry tree. A large, leafy tree that was near his house and strangely close to the beach. Makoto had discovered it during his teens. He carried his school books with a leather strap and hugged his blue notebook. Spring had come to town and joy filled everyone's hearts, except his, that was shattered in the schoolyard. He dried his tears with the back of his hand and his cheeks were flushed; his eyelids were swollen and he kept crying, wondering if there was something wrong with him. Was his hair too dry or too greasy? Did he have crooked teeth? Was he so bad in math and geography? Was he as ugly as the rest of his classmates said? Or was he really dumb enough to believe that someone would reciprocate his feelings?

“I don't want to keep doing this!”

He threw his blue notebook on the floor. Tears fell on its cover and Makoto just looked at it; his father had given him that notebook last year, it wasn't fair to treat it that way. He picked it up and cleaned the sand carefully.

That was when he discovered it. A cherry tree, much larger than the one facing Sousuke's room; its flowers wiggled in the salty wind and the base of its trunk was covered by pink petals. Makoto took one of them only to convince himself that he was not dreaming; at that time, his dreams were not as beautiful or elaborate as he could only think of someone who ended up hurting him. But that tree, pink and fresh, conveyed a sweet sense of tranquility and security that healed the wounds of his young heart.

He sat underneath, opened his notebook and began writing.

Makoto was sheltered by the shadow of the cherry tree until sunset. And before he left he touched the wood of his trunk, promising that he would return the next day to continue writing. A promise he would keep every day for years to come.

He never told anyone about the tree or what he wrote that afternoon because he felt in his heart that this place was special, there was something magical about that tree. Trees of that type do not grow so close to the beach, nor are they so large or bright; Makoto never doubted the magic emanating from the tree, it was a special place where he felt safe and calm.

Maybe one day he would share it with someone.

Maybe one day he would meet someone like the cherry tree.

“Haruka...”

Stars. Sun. Sky.

“Haruka...”

Flowers. Emeralds. Books.

“Haruka, wake up.”

Master Serizawa touched his cheek. Haruka's eyes stopped looking at the void and replied:

“I'm sorry, Master. What were you telling me?”

“Are you all right, Haruka? It seemed as if you were remembering something.”

“No, I'm okay. Forgive me.”

Serizawa smiled softly and swam to the highest shelves in the tower. He carried some books, Haruka helped him with the remaining ones and they were silent for a moment. Serizawa could see through Haruka's eyes and said softly:

“You're thinking about that tree, aren't you?”

“Sorry?”

“The tree you planted on the surface years ago, you're thinking about it. Don't try to deny it.”

Haruka's cheeks blushed. Serizawa smiled and continued to arrange the books in their respective places.

Before Haruka became Master Serizawa's apprentice, he shared the same interests as his friend Rin for the surface and the world of humans. When the rules did not yet exist and the emperor was still alive, Rin and Haruka swam to the surface and spied on the human lifestyle; the kingdom they visited was mostly surrounded by the ocean, the only thing that connected it with the rest of the world was a stone path that was large enough for three carriages to pass through without any problem. The ocean connected with rivers that led to lakes hidden in the forest, springs in the mountains and lagoons full of mosquitoes and willows that wept in them; Rin enjoyed hiding in the main harbor where huge ships departed, with sails so large that they seemed to blend in with the clouds in the sky. On the other hand, Haruka liked to explore the beaches and the springs, he climbed the great waterfalls and listened to the song of the birds. There were days when he was lucky and saw rainbows that were born from the water and reached infinity.

Haruka loved exploring new places, magical places like those described in the books he read every night. He loved to read almost as much as he loved to explore.

His parents did not possess magical abilities, but they were good for combat and hunting so they had a respectable position in the army; they taught the younger members to handle weapons with skill and agility, they showed them the right way to tame wild beasts and the proper way to fight in any kind of situation. It was because of his parents work that Haruka and Rin met and became best friends, and it was because of his parents work that he ended up as an apprentice of Master Serizawa.

Master Serizawa taught him about the magic of the elements, of the stars, of the sun and the moon; he taught him to connect with nature and to use the essence of the stars to see and hear what we cannot touch. But there was only one thing that Haruka never learned from the Master, something he would learn over a hundred years. For now, the closest thing he had to that learning was a cherry tree that he planted along with Serizawa shortly before the war.

“This tree will grow as you grow, Haruka. It will be able to feel your love, your happiness, and your magic, but it will also feel your sadness and your pain. This tree is a part of you, Haruka, symbolizes the beauty of the universe, physically ephemeral, but eternal inside, and it's your bond with nature.”

Every year, during the spring, Haruka felt a stab in his chest that unconsciously related to the tree; he hasn't explored the surface beaches or springs for years, so in the spring he wondered what was happening up there, how much life would have changed the humans that he and Rin spied when they were children, but felt a great curious to know what those stabs were due to. If it were not because he spents the whole day studying or taking care of his bookstore, he would certainly return to the surface just to listen to the song of the birds, swim through the waterfalls, see the rainbows that reach the infinity and visit the beach where his tree was.

He wanted to...

“Haruka, I think that's enough for today," Serizawa said softly. “I know what you are thinking, but forget about that, please. Go home, read something and rest.”

“Master...”

“Do it, Haruka.”

Haruka left the books and withdrew with a bow to his master.

He went directly to his home, which was also a bookstore, stopping only occasionally to greet his neighbors or the kind lady who prepared him coral snacks on weekends. His home was small, maybe smaller than Serizawa's tower (but that was only because he had books everywhere), in front was the bookstore and in the back was his home. He didn't have much, but he had enough to live decently. He threw himself on the bed and began to play with the little bubbles that came out of his fingers, gave small touches on the wall just to see how small flowers were born; turned from top to bottom, attended the bookstore and did anything else to avoid remembering Serizawa's words. "Forget about that". While Serizawa could read Haruka's thoughts just by looking into his eyes, he had never been able to read his. His mind seemed locked, as if he wanted to hide something from the rest of the world... or someone.

Before the war, Serizawa went to the surface with Haruka to teach him about nature. Those days were always bright and warm, as if the sun shine more than usual just for him, but after the death of the emperor, Serizawa left the city for a while and when he returned his eyes were always sad, his voice was softer and he seemed to have lost something. Haruka missed feeling the sun on his skin, and was sure that Master Serizawa also missed the sun. Sometimes he heard him speaking to the moon in a sad and sobbing voice. He could ask the stars, but maybe he would never receive an answer

“I'd like to know what's wrong with him.”

“What's wrong with who?”

Haruka was startled to hear Rin's voice, and his laugh to see how books fell off the shelf. He looked at him annoyed and said:

“Don't do that! It's annoying.”

“I'm sorry, I thought you would anticipate my arrival.”

“I'm not that kind of sorcerer... Where were you? Gou said you didn't show up for dinner with the ambassadors and that the guards looked for you all over the city.”

Rin closed the door and checked the bookstore to make sure they were alone. He showed his sharp smile and Haruka could already hear his words.

“I went to the surface.”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Haru... “, Rin whined.

“You know what could happen if they discover you! «Without exceptions», that's the rule. They could exile you or execute you!”

“As long as they don't know everything will be fine.”

“Tell me nobody saw you when you came back...”

“Nao saw me...”

Haruka looked at him seriously.

“Are you kidding me?”

“He used one of his magic and bright bubbles to see me, he knows where the passage I've been using to get in and out is. But that ain't gonna...”

“That ain't gonna stop you. I know. For a crab, could you think about what could happen if you're not careful? The rules are...”

“Are made to protect us, _blah_ , _blah_. I already know that, the hell with those rules!”

“You can't disobey them just because you don't want to be emperor, Rin.”

“You sound like my mother... If I could choose my destiny, I would go far from here, to explore the world, to sail, to make music and to have adventures alongside humans.”

“But they...”

“I know what they did! But not all of them are like that. Last night I was close to one, and he was making music! Beautiful music!, so beautiful that I couldn't help but singing with it.”

“Did he discover you?”

“No, but I hope I can see him again tonight.”

“You don't learn, right?”, Rin smiled. “Even if you made friends with that human, it's impossible for you to be together. You are from different worlds.”

Haruka knew that Rin didn't care. Rin lets himself guide by his heart, he is impulsive and that led him to do stupid things like approaching the human world in defiance of the rules of the empire. He knew that Rin did not want to be an emperor, he owed it to his father, who spent much of his life exploring the ocean and visiting ships that were shipwrecked at the bottom of the ocean to bring home jewels and interesting objects from the human world, such as the golden bracelet that Rin always wears on his arm, it was the first object of a collection that remained hidden in a cave near the city.

But there was something that Haruka knew, something that Rin could not find out about or else he would end up making a mistake that could intervene with what was written in the stars.

Legend has it that when the sun and the moon met they fell deeply in love. The sun gave her the beauty of nature, and the moon gave him stars and lights in the sky. Notes of love that humans knew as constellations were left; every time the moon met the sun, she dressed in the flash of a million comets just to look as beautiful and bright as her beloved. Sometimes you could see them both in the sky, the sun hugged her with clouds of cotton and she blushed once a year because the sun wrote her poems in the sand; there was no stronger love than the love of the sun and the moon, it was said that they would be together until the end of time. Until the gods intervened. They had listened to the prayers of humans, complaining about the continuing darkness that was there when the sun and the moon hugged or about the destroyed crops when the sun wiped the tears of the moon with the clouds. The gods, upset by the selfishness of the sun and the moon, separated them forever so that they were never together in the sky. They suffered, but never lost hope of meeting again. The sun kept writing her poems in the sand and she left messages in the sky, but it wasn't enough. They needed to hug, kiss and tell each other how much they loved each other; they went against the orders of the stars and the gods, and each took some of their light to create two beings that would allow them to share what they could no longer. Every two hundred years they would create humans who would mix with the rest so that the gods would not suspect. But something went wrong last time; by taking too much light on themselves they created two creatures that were as magical as they were. The moon had given her son silver hair and the sun gave his son a pair of eyes equal to his. They were beautiful, and they were as in love as they were. But they didn't want to risk being punished by the gods, so they hid them from each other. The sun hid him in a spring and gave him a pair of golden wings so that he could touch the cotton clouds with which he would cradle the son of the moon, but she did not think the same and hid her son with silver hair in the depths of the ocean, telling him that he would talk to him every night and granting him the gift of the stars to write to the sun. But like two souls destined to meet, the son of the sun and the son of the moon met and fell in love.

They say that if you are kind to them they will be able to fulfill a wish, anything you wish would come true.

If the legend was true, and those beings existed, Rin could ask them to make him human.

“You should come with me,” Rin said, “Last night the sky was filled with colors, tonight maybe It will too.”

“I would like to, but...”

“Then do it! Come with me! It will be like when we were kids.”

Haruka looked at him fearfully. He didn't want to risk being discovered, but there were so many things on the surface that he wanted to see again. He wondered if it was worth taking that risk. He could be executed, locked in the dungeon... or he could go far from the city, he could explore to discover new stories and write his own poems.

“Think about it, Haru. I will leave before the lights go out. Nao hasn't discover my other passages yet. Remember, live the way you are happy... And I got the feeling that you are not so happy living here.”

_Blow,_

_Let's see if with your air_

_You manage to tear down_

_This castle of fear_

_That surrounds me_

It was September, it was hot, but you could feel the fresh air currents from the north. They were naughty, like the little children that run around the town square, chasing each other or playing with one of the stray dogs that are around. They have never had an owner, or a home, but they are never dirty because there is someone who bathes them every Sunday and of course, leaves them food in certain places of the town because they drink water from the fountain or the merchants give them a full bowl of water. They run around the children, they laugh while they play, and their clothes end up full of dust and mud that their mothers wash by hand; their hands are calloused, hard and rough, but their caresses always feel like silk. Makoto's mother also had her hands full of wounds and in winter they dried to the point that blood spilled from her fingers as she wove. But Makoto never felt that her hands were like sandpaper, for him they felt like cotton, fresh and soft cotton that looked like clouds.

When she got sick, the light in her eyes seemed to dim over the days, her light barely kept alive in her smile or in the scarves she knitted during the winter. His brothers got sick easily at that time of year so they were always in bed drinking chamomile tea, eating cinnamon cookies and with three pairs of sweaters that covered them from the cold; Makoto's father worked double shifts at the factory to buy the medicines his children and wife needed, something that Makoto eventually began to do. He walked away from the books and every morning he went to work with his father before dawn, it was too cold and he felt his bones turn to glass; his lips dried and bled, his gloves barely covered his hands and the snow dampened his feet. Each step felt like torture, but it was worth it to be able to give the medication to his family.

“Here you go, mom, drink it while it's hot.”

Her skin looked paler and every day the pillow was filled with her beautiful hair. Makoto inspected every detail of her face while she drank from chamomile tea; in the depths of his heart he knew it, but he refused to accept it, it had been a long time since the village doctor said she was sick and instead of improving he only saw how the light from her eyes gradually moved away, as if it was struggling to stand up in a battle that would probably never be victorious.

“How are your siblings?”, she asked with soft voice.

“They are much better, in a few days they will be running through the garden and will bring you the first flowers of spring.”

“And could you bring me something, my love?”

“Whatever you want, mom.”

She cradled his son's cheek. Makoto would remember the softness of her cotton hands, the sweet tone of her voice and the flowers beside her bed. Her olive eyes and her smile.

When Makoto published his first book, he felt as if millions of stars were shining on the horizon, showing him the future that awaited him. The money he raised was destined for his family; they repaired the roof beam, bought a porcelain tableware, were able to build a chimney that kept them warm during the winter; they could finally pay for better medicines and their brothers were able to attend school. Makoto began to help his father financially and was able to give them a good lifestyle that would last until today.

But in the last week of winter, when the snow is no longer too cold and you could see the green of the grass, Makoto remembers his mother's voice.

“I want you to write me a poem, just one. I want to read the beauty of your words and feel the love that lives in your letters. Could you do that for me?”

“It will be the first thing you read at dawn, I promise.”

“Makoto, my sweet child, you have brought me so much happiness and you have filled my heart with love. There is no day when I don't thank the gods for the family they gave me”, Then she smiled and some of her light was enlivened for a few moments. When he saw her, Makoto's heart ached. It hurt to see her that way. So fragile, like a dandelion that is about to receive the storm. «You will not remember her like that, you will remember her with her smile and her cotton hands, with her smile and the spring flowers,» he thought as he took her hand. “You are an amazing person, Makoto, the sweetest and most sensitive child I know. I want you to keep smiling. That the kindness that lives in your heart may never disappear even in the darkest days. I want you to take care of your brothers and your father, I want you to keep writing, and someday, find someone you can care for and love as much as we do.”

“Why do you say goodbye, mom?”

“I want to read your poem, Makoto.”

Her skin was pale, cold, and he felt for the last time the warm light of her eyes.

Sometimes he remembered her. Winter would soon arrive and with it comes the memory of his mother. He cannot remember whether he finished the poem or not, nor does he remember in which notebook he wrote it; his father and his brothers moved to a small town in the west where the weather was a bit warmer and the people were friendly, but he decided to stay in that house near the coast. It was well located, the air currents made it a cool place during spring and summer, it was almost always alone in the fall because it is his favorite time to travel, and in the winter it feels cold.

Makoto knew many people from many places, but actually he had few friends. Each one had something that made them special, like Kisumi, who had a talent for baking and likes to make people happy with his sweets. He had asked him many times why he never dedicated himself to the family business, and he always told him the story of how he started making candy for his younger brother, he had a soft smile on his face every time he talked about little Hayato and how he helped him in the kitchen every afternoon after his piano lessons. Rei sometimes accompanied him on his trips because he is the type of person who always asks questions, he is overflowed with curiosity, and he could spend weeks and months working in his laboratory. He believed that at some point humanity and machines could coexist; his head was full of inventions that could do any kind of work. Many people believes that he's crazy, but it is only because of his peculiar hair color (result of one of his experiments). Nagisa was special, he knew from the first moment he saw his pink eyes. He always saw the joyful and beautiful side of life, believed that people's souls were colors and that there was no equal color in the world. He liked to spend the day with Nagisa, because, although he sometimes behaved like a small child, Nagisa understood him because they shared a similar vision of the world and the beauty that surrounds them; he could represent that beauty with a simple piece of graphite and some paper. His small house was full of paintings and portraits that sometimes came out of his imagination or were scenes of provincial life. Then there was Sousuke, he always carried an ivory flute that his grandmother had given him. Sousuke was a romantic (much more than Makoto), he liked to see the night sky, he liked to see the stars because they reminded him that there was freedom and a world full of possibilities outside the castle walls. It was no secret that he was not at all interested in becoming king, but he was the only heir to the throne, if he did not accept his title then power would pass to a family of aristocrats who have longed for the crown for generations, but they never have had a chance. Sousuke understands it, and knows that's what his father would least want. “The crown must stay in the family, and only in the family!”

“What are you going to do? If you give up the crown it would be like killing your father.”

“I just need to think. I'm not interested in being king, but I also don't want a family of thieves to take control of the kingdom.”

“You could marry by commitment, nobody expects you to do it for love.”

“They want grandchildren, Makoto, but a child is the fruit of the love between two people. There can'not be children if there is no love, it's what I believe and also...”

“You are waiting for the right person to arrive, the one with the stars in his eyes. At this rate you will end up being a lonely king.”

“That person exists, Makoto. But I still can't find him.”

Makoto hasn't thought about love for years, which is ironic for someone whose poems and novels are of love. Makoto knew two types of love: the love of the family and the love of friends, nothing more. He doesn't think of the other kind of love since that spring afternoon when he was a teenager; love is complicated, it can be reciprocated or they can reject you in front of all the students of the school while the flowers, a simple bouquet made with the flowers of the garden, ended up trampled on the earth patio while you listen to the laughter of all those people that point you out and keep shouting: “Loser! Silly! Ugly!”

Maybe he is afraid. A fear that became a castle of high walls, of stone, with spikes at the edges and a pit with a crocodile that emitted a sound like _tic tac tic tac_ , waiting for the moment when the doors open to enter the castle and then...

Someone knocks the door.

Makoto leaves the book on the wooden table and receives his friend Sousuke, who has left the ostentatious clothes and jewelry at home and wears civilian clothes and a brown hood. Makoto pretends not to notice the two guards who watch his house from the stone path and let his friend enter. He offers one of Kisumi's cookies and boils water on the stove. Sousuke remains silent until the moment when the cups are full of coffee and he puts some milk on his.

“Yesterday you left without saying goodbye”, Sousuke said quietly, taking a sip of coffee.

“I was tired, I thought you wouldn't notice. You were busy with some ambassadors and I didn't want to interrupt.”

“You're lying.”

“I'm not.”

“You've been acting weird since I mentioned the mermaid, what's going on?”

“You're not going to give up on that, are you?”

“Do you think they don't exist?”

Makoto sighed. He examined the coffee left in the cup and remembered the hair of Ren, his brother, and the days they played together on the beach. He remembers that they used to gather shells on the beach to make a necklace for their mother. Ren liked the stories Makoto wrote (Ran preferred the romance novels) and he was always drawing the characters of his stories, full of color and with that spark of magic that characterizes children's imagination. Among his infinite imagination lay a seed of naivety that believed in the legends and stories that the old people of the town told the children next to the fountain in the square; there was a lady, with white hair combed in bun, wrinkled skin and eyes of a mysterious purple color, who always told him the story of how she met the children of the sun and the moon. She said that the golden wings of the son of the sun shone along with the scales of the son of the moon and together they created a rainbow that extended to infinity; she brought them flower crowns, baskets full of sweets and fruits to eat because they lived in the middle of the forest. They were so enchanted by the sweetness of the lady, that at that time she was only seven years old, that they gave her something very special: a silver scale with golden frost. They told her that, if she ever wanted anything with all her heart, she would put the scale near her heart and then it would come true.

Ren was fascinated to hear the story of that lady and on multiple occasions he asked Makoto to accompany him to the forest to look for the children of the sun and the moon, but Makoto could not do it since he had to go to work or had to take care to his mother. Then Ren began to frequent the fisherman Sasabe –who believed in mermaids– and asked him to help him get the scale of one of them.

“If I ask her to give me one of her scales, then I'll wish that my mommy is no longer sick and can play with us as before.”

Sasabe did not have the heart to refuse such an innocent request, but neither could he risk taking a small child to the high seas during his travels. The ocean was dangerous.

Ren's desire to get a mermaid's scale stayed in the past, fading away with his mother's last breath on a winter night.

“I'm not saying they don't exist, but I'm not sure if I should believe they exist,” Makoto replied. Sousuke sigh, he took a cookie and put it in his pants pocket.

“As it seems that the kings of this kingdom have nothing better to do, I'm obliged to give you this.” He took a scroll adorned with turquoise ribbon and handed it to him. Makoto looked at it.

“Two nights in a row? They need to sort their priorities. The kingdom is not at its best, you know?”

“It's for my birthday. Don't act as if you had forgotten it.”

“I didn't.”

“Well, then I'll see you tonight. Ah! And get an appropriate mask, Nagisa wanted to wear a demon mask.”

“Why am I not surprised?”, Makoto said, suppressing a laugh.

Sousuke said goodbye, put on the hood of the cape and left Makoto's house.

Makoto saw his notebook resting on the desk, open on a blank page and lit by candlelight. He had a black cape with golden seams that was wide enough to hide that notebook and pencil. He was not in the mood to attend a dance, but he had to go because it was the birthday of one of his best friends. Maybe he could stay long enough to eat a piece of cake (which will surely be prepared by Kisumi since Sousuke loves his desserts) and then he could escape for a couple of hours to the beach where his favorite tree was.

“This time I will say goodbye.”

He made more coffee and only small crumbs were left of the cookies.

_The sea detailed our cravings_

_The sand drew our bodies_

_And the breeze caressed our faces_

_The moon toward us was coming_

_To this wonderful night_


End file.
